


Exhibit A

by Astoria



Category: Carol (2015), The Price of Salt - Patricia Highsmith
Genre: Age Difference, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Jealousy, Misunderstandings, Photography
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-27
Updated: 2016-09-27
Packaged: 2018-08-18 05:48:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8151211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Astoria/pseuds/Astoria
Summary: Carol Aird is pretty sure that young woman, Therese Belivet, is flirting with her husband. That bothers her very much.Probably not for the right reasons.





	

Carol Aird was not a jealous woman by nature, but the situation she was in might just be the trigger for this part of her she didn't know she had. The girl had been pursuing her husband for a long time, and she was putting a stop to it. Because one simply did not try to steal something from Carol under her nose.

 

The girl was in every thought Carol had, every dream, every daydream, she was inescapable and she had to do something about it.

 

And, yes of course, she loved her husband more than anything and the thought of the girl with him made her nauseous.

 

_* The Meeting *_

 

Carol lit up her twelfth cigarettes of the night. As one could not smoke in the art gallery one had to go outside and Carol's habit with cigarettes served as an excuse to get her out. The air inside was stifling and the throng of people was too aggressive. And those photos!

 

She inhaled the burning smoke deep in her lungs and exhaled it into the dark blue night. When she walked to go back inside her high heel caught in one of the laminated posters. It read 'Latest exhibition of Harge Aird', words like 'great' and 'exceptional' were also thrown in and Carol tried not to scoff. She was being a supportive wife, but being the wife of a famous photographer, who knew he was famous and adored was not easy everyday.

 

They met twenty years ago when Carol was a famous model who toured in Paris and Milan and New York. Harge wanted her to stop because he was ten years older than her and he wanted a family. She adored him like everyone else, loved his photos, loved his interviews and every appearance he made in the press, loved his artistic mind. So she said yes, let's do this. It was still painful to even think about it but she had not been able to conceive. The thing was she was not absolutely upset about that, being a mother had never been one of her goals. She was not overt about that feeling though, Harge was understandably very upset and their relationship took a strain. They pulled through for some reason but Carol was never able to go back to the fashion world, her absence being too long she had been replaced. She would never blame her husband for that, no, they had tried to make a family. How could she blame him? How could she? She had for the past few years tried to come back as a designer because she had always liked fashion. Harge saw it as a hobby though, a fad. Yet he paid for her expensive designer classes in Manhattan so she allowed his disdain.

 

The poster was still stuck on her shoe and she had to shake it a bit to get it off. The movement was too brutal and her Louboutin went flying off in the gutter.

 

“Fucking great.” She sighed, hobbling off to retrieve it. She bent down and heard a giggle. She turned around and saw a girl. She had obviously been in the gallery and was taking some fresh air because she didn't have a coat in this cold weather and her cheeks were flushed characteristically because of a small room full of people milling about. She saw the look Carol threw at her and her mirth evaporated in an instant. Yes, Carol still had it, her killer eyebrow she called it.

 

“Sorry!” She flushed and blanched in the span of a few seconds and Carol would be concerned if she was not already exhausted by this whole night.

 

“Whatever.” She simply answered because she was an almost forty-year-old mature woman. She shouldered the girl and went back inside, the difference in heat making her sweat immediately. She looked for her husband with her eyes and saw him at the centre of a group, waving his champagne flute around while he spoke. He loved being the centre of the attention, he loved talking and he love even more being listened. She decided to let him be, have his moment. She moved around the room, her eyes looking at the photos distractedly. It didn't catch on anything, she had already seen them all, but if she was honest even if she hadn't seen them before, it wouldn't catch her attention. Carol thought her husband was very talented but she had to admit that after a few years his raw talent seemed a bit… blunt, dull even. He would do the same exhibits years after years and people were still crazy about him. She thought it was his personality that attracted him all this fame and following rather than any work he ever produced. She would never say it out loud though.

 

The photos were of women, naked women. Not even entire women but parts of them. A brown nipple here, a poking hip there. There was even a series of bellybuttons with the base of pubic hair at the bottom of the frame. Objectively it was rather beautiful because all of these women were beautiful but artistically speaking Carol couldn't say it was revolutionary or made her think at all. No, looking at these she felt a dull, blunt aftertaste. Nothing concrete, nothing at all really except uneasiness of looking at dismembered girls. But what did Carol knew about art, huh? That sentence had been uttered by Harge at least fifty times at the beginning of their marriage when Carol still dared to speak her mind: she could still see the mean curve of his lip. What did she know about art, huh? Nothing, she was just a beautiful skinny model with an empty head. She couldn't blame him for his rudeness, she didn't know anything about art, that was true.

 

She put on her mask and tried to mingle when one of the photos caught her attention, so much that she nearly dropped her glass. Finally a girl whose face was not hidden and cut away. She was on her knees but did not look imploring or weak, the tendons in her arms standing out and conveying her strength. Her eyes were up in the air, looking up at the sky in what seemed to be a prayer. But everything about her from her position to her expression betrayed that idea. No, she looked like she was cursing the sky, like she was tempting God and all other divinities, the whole Universe on its knees for the girl. Carol stayed there, looking at it, at her, for thirty minutes without moving and when people tried to look too she didn't budge an inch and they had to leave. After that her eyes jumped to the description near it. “Saint Therese”. Saint fit her well, sainthood was in those blue eyes, sainthood was those clenched fists. The flushed cheeks full of freckles made her pause and when she realized she gasped loudly. The girl! The giggling girl from earlier. She was a saint after all.

 

Carol's lungs seized and she felt like she had smoked her twelve cigarettes at the same time. She had to find that girl, she didn't even know why. She should find her husband who had taken that picture, the first picture of a girl with clothes on who was not beheaded in years! But no, she had had a bad start with the girl, she didn't want to look like a bitter woman who was clumsy enough to lose her shoe in front of a saint. She saw her again. She was near her husband talking quietly and laughing. In the dark of the street she had not been able to look at her properly, nor did she want to anyway. Now though, now she could look and she wanted to. She was rather slim, a little petite thing of a young woman. She had felt that when she had shoved past her. Her dark hair was short and styled like those girls who danced at Gatsby's parties, a bob and a small fringe. She had round glasses in tortoiseshell. She looked so young and pretty and Carol ached a bit.

 

Harge's big hand was on the small of her back and completely dwarfed her up. Carol nearly ran toward them. Harge smiled at her but didn't remove his hand, the girl looked down probably remembering earlier.

 

“Darling, how you liking my show?” He asked and drank up his glass full of alcohol: he didn't expect an answer and had no intention of listening to her. She knew him like the back of her hand.

 

“I love it, as always.” Carol looked at the girl who was already looking at her. She was looking up, because Carol was taller, her soft blue eyes up like in that photo and Carol's breath left her. “One piece of your work particularly caught my interest.”

 

Harge's hairy eyebrows went up in surprise. She usually left her comment at something mundane and uninvolved. “Oh yeah? Which one?”

 

“I believe it involves that young girl there.” Their eyes were still on each other.

 

“ _Saint Therese_ , right? Loved that shooting. Therese here is a student of mine. Lots of talent, huh?” Harge's hand that was still on her back moved to caress her. Carol's blood boiled but she only smiled.

 

“She is one your students?”

 

“Yes, photography is my passion. So when the great Harge Aird asked me to pose I couldn't refuse.” Her voice was sweet but there was an edge also. If Carol didn't know better she would have swore her voice cracked a bit on the word 'great'.

 

“Well, that was magnificent, really.” Carol said, looking at Therese.

 

“Yeah, wanted to mix religion and nudity. Always loved the mix.” Harge's smile ate his entire face.

 

Carol frowned. “Nudity?”

 

“Oh Carol, don't tell me you're jealous!” He laughed. “After all those years, dammit, I've seen many tits you know. But yours are still my favourite!” Carol forced a smile at her husband's antics.

 

“No, I know. I meant to say there's no nudity in that piece. That also caught my attention.” Carol had said it like that but when she looked at Therese she saw she looked stricken and ready to run away as fast as possible. Harge's hand was still impossibly on her back.

 

“What the fuck!” Harge howled when he looked at the piece from afar. Then he snickered and lowered his voice. “You little bitch.” Carol's blood boiled again. “You changed my photo. How dare you, you fucking bitch.”

 

Harge's hand on Therese's back looked painful now and she looked ready to cry. “I'm sorry, I just wanted a chance to exhibit and have honest feedbacks on my work.” She moved a bit and removed the hand on her. She seemed to gain strength in the movement. “And apparently that's the best work you've done in years according to the comments.”

 

Carol honestly thought Harge was going to hit Therese, even though he was not violent, he did not joke about his ego. But he only laughed and laughed and laughed again attracting the attention of some other people. “Good job, good job. Can't blame you, I always tell you to be bold and daring in my college classes. So yeah, can't blame you, good job.” He smiled at her, his anger forgotten, his charm back on.

 

“So Mrs Aird--” Therese started.

 

“Carol.” She cut her off.

 

“Carol.” She repeated simply, her pink plump mouth rounding up. “You liked it very much?”

 

“I did.”

 

“Would you consider buying it? That would legitimize my art and my pride.”

 

That girl! Bold and brave and beautiful. “Actually yes. I will buy it.” She answered without hesitating. She not only wanted to please Therese, she actually, really wanted that photograph. She wanted to see it everyday if that was possible: after waking up, before going to sleep, she wanted it on her eyelids.

 

Harge spluttered but ultimately shut up and went to talk to other people when he realized he was not the centre of attention any more. “So when did you change it?”

 

Therese smirked. “One hour before the exhibition.”

 

“Sneaky” Carol smirked too.

 

“I know.”

 

“So what was the real one like?” She asked because she wanted the conversation to keep going.

 

“Oh.” Therese lowered her eyes and blushed. “I… God it must be hard to be Harge Aird's wife.”

 

 _Like you wouldn't believe!_ She wanted to scream but she only smiled and said. “Why would you say that?”

 

Therese looked at her funny. “I mean I know I would be mad with jealousy if my husband worked with naked women everyday. I know what's professional and not, but photography...” She paused and inhaled. “Photography is art and it's so visceral and personal and...” She laughed a bit, her fringe moving with it. “Sorry I'm rambling. I love photography. I would have never done something like that if I wasn't completely passionate about it.”

 

“I understand. Still you did not answer my question. What was the real _Saint Therese_ like?”

 

“My boobs.” Therese said irreverently. “I mean it was my joined hands between my breasts.” She mimed it.

 

“I see.” Carol was not a big fan of her husband's latest works but god, she wouldn't mind seeing it.

 

“Not that I'm complaining or judging Harge Aird's work!” She rectified quickly, misjudging Carol's reaction.

 

“It's fine if you do. I think he needs a bit more founded criticisms and not only people overlooking his works and just registering his name and immediately saying amen.”

 

Therese looked surprised at that. Yes, Carol had fire too, she was just afraid of showing it sometimes. The exhibition lasted for another two hours and Carol never strayed far from Therese. Therese didn't seem to want to leave her side either.

 

 

_* Exhibit A *_

 

 

 

It had been a few weeks since that exhibition. Harge had sold all of his photos, had earned millions of dollars but was still insufferable about the one picture Carol bought. She had had to fight to get a space in their house to put it up, but finally there it was, in their bedroom. Harge had wanted to put in a closet or in a corridor no one went to but Carol refused and took a stand. Eventually he relented and let her have this. It was the best work in the house, the best piece of art. After all this time Carol was still fascinated by it, by _her_. And as she had said she looked at it everyday after waking up and before going to sleep, it was the first and last thing she saw, those _eyes_ , just Therese.

 

She thought they had something, the beginning of a friendship with how much they talked but she did have any news from her. Well, Carol was not going to stop living because a twenty-year-old girl didn't want to be her friend. God she sounded pathetic. But she didn't have any real friends. It was tough when Harge aspirated everything around him and around her. Carol Aird shone bright before meeting Harge. Then she shone just as bright but she was with a star who denied any other light.

 

She went to her designing classes like everyday and when she came back home she had a surprise. A delivery man came and left her a package, she opened it without thinking and nearly fell over when she saw what it was. Therese's breasts on a 50 x 80 cm frame, in Carol's hands. Her heart was trying to beat itself out of her chest and she felt dizzy with it. She recognized the symptoms immediately: arousal, attraction. Feelings she had not felt in years. Now Carol was open in her mind and with her body: as a model she could not have been shy and being in the fashion world meant you met a lot _colourful men_ as one would say. But that was different because she had never felt that, it was weird and foreign and yet. And yet. It was so familiar, it was the same.

 

Without even thinking about it she went to her room and put down the photograph on the bed. The breasts were rather small and she could imagine them on Therese's petite stature. They were not round, but rather pointed and sharp: Carol felt overwhelmed by the realest feeling she had ever felt of putting her mouth on the peaking nipples. She almost salivated because of it, she could feel the weight of them on her tongue. She whimpered in the empty room and still without thinking or tearing away her eyes from the photo, she lifted the bottom of her skirt to touch herself.

 

Carol masturbated quite often and if she was honest with herself it wasn't because she liked it that much but because sex with her husband had become rather sub par. Or maybe it had always been this way? She thought so, but when they were younger Harge wasn't cheating on her so they had sex more often. Oh yes, she wasn't naive. She knew many of his students and models shared an hotel bed with her husband. She had learnt to live with it and somehow she didn't care that much. More often than not she would even pity the poor girls who had to see Harge humping like an asthmatic baboon.

 

Thinking about her husband had diminished her lust a bit but then she went back to those breasts. Therese's hands were delicate and she had long fingers, delicate artist hands. She wondered how they would feel on her. As she thought it she touched herself, directly on her clitoris, still standing, her knees buckled and she fell on the hardwood floor but didn't stop. In the fall one of her breasts had escaped her bra and she used her other hand to touch and torture it with her nails and now she was full on moaning, on her knees, half naked, rutting on her hand like she hadn't come in ten years. Fuck, fuck, fuck it was so good. Therese was so beautiful and in the fantasies of her mind Carol was pliable and putty in Therese's long fingers. Carol eventually tore her eyes away from the photograph on her bed to look at the one on her wall.

 

And that was it. The sight of her thighs, a bit apart with the position, the line it created, Therese's face, her eyes, her fists, the breasts she could now imagine under her flimsy dusty pink dress. Carol came harder than she had in years, she felt alive and alight. It was like she had turned on something in her that had been turned off forever.

 

She could not stay long in her bliss when she saw the package she had so hastily opened had been addressed to her husband. Therese wanted him to have this part of her and Carol felt like the world came crashing down. Had Therese slept with _him_? Did she want to? Oh no.

 

 

_* Exhibit B *_

 

 

Carol Aird had decided to visit the college where her husband sometimes gave classes. She was being a good wife, visiting her husband. If she had chosen the time when she knew he had classes well that wasn't her fault, now was it? Simple mistake. When he saw her he went to kiss her and she moved her head discreetly so he ended up kissing her cheek and she could look in the classroom from the hallway they were in. Therese was on the second row, wearing those adorable round glasses and her short hair up in a messy bun. Her mouth opened up in surprise when she saw Carol and Carol smiled. In her plan she hadn't seen the obvious: if Harge was busy in a class, chances were Therese was too. God, she was pathetic. After saying goodbye she went to leave and decided her day was not going to be completely wasted if she treated herself to a nice lunch and then a shopping spree. She was determined to not let it affect her too much because what was her plan in the end? She didn't even know, she came impulsively, she just wanted to see Therese.

 

She was walking through the campus when a hand grabbed her elbow. She turned around, ready to hit that person with her high heel when she was face to face with a flustered and panting Therese. Oh.

 

“Hello Carol.” She said shyly. Carol shouldn't have been this happy that she remembered her name.

 

“Hello Therese.” She replied and enjoyed the very same feeling reflected on her face, of course she remembered her name, it was the only thing she could think about!

 

“I… I don't even know what I'm doing here.” Therese admitted. “I just wanted us to continue our last conversation, I guess.”

 

“You guess?” Carol played coy. “I agree, let's do just that. Do you want to grab lunch? I know this perfect restaurant.” She proposed bravely trying to quell the damn nerves in her stomach. She was thirty-eight years old for god's sake!

 

“Yes, I'd love that.” She answered simply. She wasn't wearing any make-up and she looked a bit tired, the bags under her eyes a violet hue. Carol supposed it was that, a college student. And despite all that, or because of it, she looked so beautiful. She looked so cosy in her too large sweater and her glasses that kept sliding down her nose. Carol had the irrepressible urge to embrace her with all her might. But she didn't, she just kept walking, their hands almost touching.

 

They ate and talked and laughed and smiled so much they barely ate and Carol paid and this felt very much like a date.

 

“So have you done anything else that might have angered Harge?”

 

Therese choke on her drink with a giggle. “I don't think so.” She paused and laughed heartily. “Actually I left his class to go to the toilets, well I said I was going, but it's been two hours so… Yeah he is probably pissed.”

 

“Do you think he'll notice?”

 

“Carol! Of course he will, I am his best student! I am so talented his own wife preferred my art over his!” She joked, it was obvious in the tone of her voice. And yet it was too true and Carol didn't laugh with her.

 

“Your art is beautiful. And you're a beautiful model.”

 

Therese blushed and pushed back her glasses. “Please, I just wanted the opportunity. I never had any pretence of being a model.”

 

“Takes one to know one.”

 

Therese looked at her closely and Carol preened a little under her eyes. “Are you a model? Wait I don't even have to ask that question. You are a model. That is so obvious.”

 

“I was, a long time ago.”

 

“What? Nope.” She popped the 'p' and Carol smiled.

 

“I'm old now.”

 

“Oh yes, that's true, so old.” She shook her head so much her bun undid itself and her hair fell in strands around her face. “Please. I look at you and I become self conscious about everything my face does. Urgh.” She put her face down on the table and Carol could not stop her fingers to go through her hair.

 

“Therese.” She said softly. “Your face is perfect as it is.”

 

She sat back up and smiled. “I take it as the greatest compliment from someone like you. The things I'd do to take you in photo.”

 

“You only have to do one thing: have dinner with me?”

 

“Gladly!” She said on the edge of her seat. Carol didn't know if the excitement came from the prospect of taking her in photo or having dinner with her. Anyway Carol was over the moon. “I'll give you my number. Text me a date.” They exchanged number and their hands touched when they shared phones. Then Therese had to go back to college for a test and Carol was forced to say goodbye. She wanted to kiss her goodbye, she wanted to stay with her for the rest of the day. In the end they kissed each other's cheeks and waved.

 

A few days later when Therese did not come to their planned dinner, Carol tried to not feel too affected, but failed spectacularly. That night she decided to drink wine and watch really bad TV. It worked for a while and she went to bed early.

 

The next day, Carol woke up with a damn hangover and she went on her day with a permanent scowl. Scowl and anger that did not subdue but grew if anything when she saw Therese. She didn't think she would ever have that reaction in front of her but Therese was in her house talking to Harge. She was wearing a long coat and had put on make up. Her lips were red and shiny and Carol wanted to taste the sweet lip gloss. But she was also talking to Harge in a low voice, their heads close to each other in their conversation. Therese was smiling and Harge looked like a challenge had offered itself in front of him. Carol was shocked beyond belief and she wanted to smash something against the wall. Had she been completely wrong about everything? Therese was naked under her coat, Carol realized. Therese was alone and happy and naked with Harge in her house. Therese had done everything to get closer to Harge. Therese had cancelled her dinner with Carol.

 

Carol ran away in the bathroom, threw up, and stayed there until Harge stopped knocking on the door and Therese was long gone.

 

_* Exhibit C *_

 

Carol had found a solution. A solution that would break her heart in thousands of piece but a solution that would allow her to keep her sanity and be happy for one small moment. She asked for a threesome with Harge and Therese. When she asked Harge looked at her funny, before bursting out laughing. She was stung and retorted that it wouldn't change anything in his habits of sleeping with other women and that she was only asking because she wanted to revive the flame in their marriage. He became serious and nodded. She asked that he proposed that to Therese. He nodded. They were already lovers so why would he refuse?

 

She went to a salon, was waxed, did her nails. Then she went to the hairdresser to touch up her blonde hair. Then she bought new very expensive lingerie, red and lacy. Then she cried in the stall of a public toilet of a mall, her eye liner sliding down her cheeks and mixing with snot. Then she wiped away her tears with the pink toilet paper that felt like sandpaper and went back out.

 

What was she even fucking doing? What was she even _fucking_ doing? She didn't want to go through with it and yet she wanted it more than anything. She wanted Therese so much, even for a moment, and at the same time she loathed to see her with him. The thought killed her and it hurt her so much more when she thought that maybe Therese wouldn't have anything to do with her and would focus on her husband. Is that what was going to happen? She had never done that but she supposed that two straight women supposedly in love with the same man wouldn't even look at each other in a threesome. Oh no, what had she done. She didn't even know any more, she just knew that after that night she would ask for divorce. It seemed right. Well truthfully it seemed right twenty years ago.

 

She went back home and saw that Harge was not here yet. They were supposed to go together at this five-stars hotel and meet Therese there. She thought she would take the moment before he came back to cry a bit more. God she was pathetic. She walked slowly into her room, carrying her shopping bags on the tips of her fingers. She flung the bags near her closet and sat down heavily on the bed. And promptly fell off hard on the floor when she noticed a silhouette in her room with her.

 

“Whoever you are… Just fuck off!” She yelled blindly.

 

She heard a familiar giggle and when she stood up Therese was there. She wasn't wearing the coat from the other day or make up. No she seemed to be natural, the way she was everyday. “Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you.”

 

She was beautiful and her soft voice soothed Carol. “No, no. Wait what are you doing here? We were supposed to meet, uh, at the hotel, you know.” She suddenly felt embarrassed and gross and she wanted to stop everything.

 

“You didn't actually think I would do that?” Therese walked to her and took one of her hands. She kissed it, kissed softly the tips and Carol forgot how to breathe. She looked over at the photo. “You kept it.” She said in an impossible fond voice and of course Carol had kept it, of course she wanted to look at it everyday. “I want you and I thought you wanted me but you kept throwing your husband at me. I can take a hint, but I wanted to see you one last time.” She kissed the inside of her palm and looked up at her with those blue eyes.

 

Carol took a moment to understand what she had said. “What? I threw my husband at you? When? What?” The only time she would throw her husband at anything would be in front of a bus.

 

“What do you mean what?” Therese repeated confused. She dropped Carol's hands and put her hands on her hips. “First I send you a huge nude photo of me and when I go to uni the next day I see it up on the wall of Harge's office.”

 

“You sent it to _me_?” That was the most surprising fact because the fact that Harge had taken it and put it up in an obvious place so everybody and especially Therese could see it was normal for him.

 

“Of course!” Now she felt less awful about what she had done with it. With the thought she blushed and looked away but Therese spoke again and she had to look at her, god the wasted times! “Then we go on a date and we have another one planned. I doll myself up and I have a little surprise for you but when I arrive your husband, my professor, is here and you are definitely not.”

 

“Oh.” God she had understood everything wrong. “Oh _no_. But- but you didn't come Thursday!”

 

“What? But I thought we were meeting Friday!” They looked at each other in silence, replaying the last few weeks in their head and what they had missed. “By the way: sorry to tell you but your husband knew what was up, like immediately.”

 

“I honestly don't care.”

 

“Good, because he wasn't tender.”

 

“Did he do anything? I'll kill him.”

 

Therese smiled. “No, don't worry. It was more of a challenge, I guess. I told him he was done artistically and personally. He mostly insulted me. So imagine my surprise when he asked me to do a threesome. I slapped him and then I thought about it. Thought about you and thought it was the only way I could get close to you. I wanted to talk to you, that's all.”

 

“You never… with Harge? And you like me?”

 

“Oh Carol. I thought that was obvious. Didn't you notice the way I look at you? Or how I ran from my class when I saw you? Or how--”

 

Carol cut her off with a kiss. It was so sweet and Therese tasted like lemon and chocolate and her breath was scalding hot on Carol's cheek. God, had she ever kissed anyone before that kiss? Carol couldn't remember anything but those lips, it seemed she discovered things anew. She didn't know why and begged herself to stop but tears started to flow from her eyes, mingling in their kiss. It had been too much, too many emotions at once, and now she suffered from whiplash.

 

She was in love with a woman.

 

She was in love with Therese.

 

Therese was in love with her too.

 

So she cried and forgot all about Harge and the ill feelings he brought in her. She had felt like she was just a ruin, nothing, a void for the longest of time because she didn't feel things any more. Not even bad things: bitterness had become normal and no joy was ever in that house. Now though, now, Therese was here and she was responding hungrily to their kiss. She mewled softly, her nails trying to find any grasp at all on Carol, whose body was lighting up from everywhere she touched, everywhere they were in contact. It was easy for Therese to go down on her knees, smoothly and with a reassuring grin. Now Carol was seeing double: she had the ethereal Therese from the photograph, on her knees, but defiant to an imagined divinity, almost on a trance and the real Therese who was smiling and who looked at Carol as if she was a merciful goddess.

 

Carol removed Therese's glasses slowly and tugged sharply on her short hair, she couldn't help herself. Then it was easy for Therese to unbutton Carol's pants and lick at all the skin she could find. Carol had never been so wet and the intense orgasm she had when she touched herself did not even compare to the one she had with Therese's tongue in her.

 

 

_* The exhibition *_

 

Carol took one of the posters and put it in her bag: she was going to put it up on the wall dedicated to this in their home, just seeing “Therese Belivet” written on a poster made her tingly with happiness and excitement. It was a bit weird seeing herself on so many photographs, to the view and critic of everyone. And yet it was thrilling at the same time. Nerve-wracking but thrilling. She hadn't been admired like that for years and her vanity loved the attention. But more than that Therese's success made her happier than ever.

 

Carol took Therese's hand and kissed her behind her ear. “Everything's fine, darling?”

 

“Now that you're here I'm less nervous.”

 

“That's what I'm here for.” They dared kiss inside the gallery among all those people. It was good, it was really good.

 

The next day when they were trying to read reviews (Therese closed her eyes and put her hands on her ears while Carol read them) they discovered that Harge was the one who was supposed to exhibit before Therese in this renowned Manhattan gallery but his investors pulled out at the last moment to support an upcoming young talent, one Therese Belivet.

 

They laughed so hard at this, and Therese took advantage of that to photograph Carol under all the angles with pure unadulterated joy written in her features.

 

**Author's Note:**

> written very fast, had this idea stuck in my head.


End file.
